


Paranoid Crows

by SmallSith



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallSith/pseuds/SmallSith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave Strider, and you are sick to death of living in your brother's shadow. He's great, he's successful, he's about to graduate from college and he already has a full-time job that pays well. He knows what he wants to do with his life.</p>
<p>"Why can't you be like your brother?"</p>
<p>A refrain you've heard your entire life, from your parents, from your teachers- from everyone. And you are sick to death of it.</p>
<p>
  <b>EDIT: Discontinued as of 1/26/15. </b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliptical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliptical/gifts).



> Wow, this is my first-ever Homestuck fan fiction! It's a Humanstuck/High Schoolstuck AU, and I hope I've done okay with it!

Dave stood outside his brother's door, listening to him laughing into the phone, talking to one or another of his dumb friends. Jake English, probably- they were dating. Or maybe Jane or Roxy. Jane and Roxy he didn't particularly mind, but he couldn't stand Jake- as far as Dave was concerned, if you looked up the phrase 'thickheaded' you'd find a picture of Jake.

Dave glared at the door. He hated the way his brother had everything Dave didn't. Their parents lavished him with love and attention and cool stuff, and Dave was left with nothing but scorn and disappointment.

Dirk had new clothes and his own desktop computer and a big bedroom with an attached bathroom (Dave suspected his own room had once been a closet) and everything he ever asked for and a lot of stuff he didn't.

He hated it, and what he hated most was the way Dirk didn't even seem to realize how awful everything was for Dave and how it was all his fault. Dave kicked the wall in frustration, and Dirk popped his head out of the door, pulling the phone away from his face for a second.

"Everything alright, bro?"

"Everything is fine, go back to your room." Dave growled through his teeth, stalking off to his room.

"No need to snap, bro. I was just asking." Dave ignored his condescending smirk and slammed his door shut, sinking down onto his bed. The springs dug into his back, and Dave thought about how he really needed to get a new mattress, but mattresses were expensive and his parents probably couldn't afford to buy him a new mattress at the moment.

Sighing, he picked up his battered phone- an iPhone Dirk had saved up for years ago and eventually gotten tired of after it had become out-of-date and the screen had cracked- and sent a text to his boyfriend John.

"Hey, John, how's it going?" It took five or six minutes for John to respond, which aggravated Dave a little, but John was always losing his stuff so Dave didn't take it too personally.

"I'm doing great! Just aced an English test yesterday. How's your brother?" Dave furrowed his eyebrows at this. He hated it when John wanted to talk about his brother, which was almost always. For some reason, John found that annoying douche bag fascinating.

"He's fine, but can we please not talk about him?" Dave hoped that didn't come off as whiny and needy and jealous the way it sounded to him, but John's reply just made Dave's insecurities worse.

"Ha ha, why not? He's a cool guy!"

Dave cringed at the cheery blue text and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, wondering for a moment whether he might throw up. "Can we just not? I have to be around that guy all the time and I guess it'd be kinda nice to get away from him for a minute."

"Don't be silly! He's really cool, why would you want to get away from him? What's he done wrong?"

Dave rolled onto his side as he texted John back, groaning as one of the springs in the mattress jabbed him in the gut. "Nothing," Dave texted, the word on the cracked and scuffed screen holding none of the bitterness and resentment it did in Dave's head.

"Then why are you so bent out of shape about it?" Dave really wished John would stop asking questions. They'd had this conversation a thousand times already, and Dave was sick of hearing about how cool his brother was.

Glancing at the poster taped to the wall beside him, Dave sighed, picking at the gray-red paint on the wall. He didn't even really like red, but his mom had painted his bedroom to match his eyes. It was one of those things she did that he didn't especially like. "I'm not sure you'd understand," Dave wrote, "I'm just kind of tired of having all _his_ old clothes and stuff and not having any money to buy my own stuff."

"Oh." A moment passed and John continued. "I didn't know." 

"I don't really like to talk about it. It just kinda stings, having everything second-hand." He frowned as he wrote it out. He didn't particularly like it when John insisted on talking about subjects he knew were touchy, but he knew he sometimes stomped on John's feelings without meaning to as well. 

Rubbing at one eye, he sent John one last message before he powered down his phone and slid it under his pillow. "I've really got to go. I've got important coolkid stuff to do. Catch you later, Egdork." 

Dave lay sprawled on his stomach, huffing and puffing in irritation. He liked John- he really did- but man, sometimes that guy could really get on his nerves, especially when he wouldn't shut up about Dirk. 

One of the reasons he liked John so much was because he was someone he'd met on his own, their friendship wasn't handed down to him by Dirk or anyone else. Dave had worked hard to make friends with John Egbert, worked hard to start their relationship, and he would be _damned_ if he would lose that to Dirk, too. 

He was sick to death of living in Dirk's shadow. He was sick to death of it. 


	2. Ouch!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dave becomes frustrated and hurts himself with a mattress.

Dave dragged a hand down his face in exhaustion. He was tired of exams at school, tired of his parents constantly nagging him to do better, tired of getting bad grades no matter how hard he tried, tired of the constant refrain of "Why can't you be like your brother," tired of his brother- he was so, so tired of it all.

He exhaled harshly into the pillow, punching the mattress in frustration. He knew his family wasn't the wealthiest, knew they had to save money some way, but to just hand everything Dirk outgrew over to Dave? He doubted they really had to do that.

He supposed he probably wouldn't hate his brother so much if he weren't constantly surrounded by reminders that Dirk was the older sibling, the better sibling. He wished Dirk would just go away, just move out already and never come back.

 _He_ was supposed to be an adult! He was supposed to be the _successful_ brother- he had a job, he could afford to move out! He was _always_ talking about it, so why wouldn't he just do it already?

Maybe, if Dirk moved out, Dave could get his own life- his own clothes, never ever worn by Dirk before! The prospect made Dave smile to himself, just a little. Sighing, he dug his phone out from under his pillow and turned it on. His half-sister, Rose, was trying to contact him.

Opening up the chat client, he sighed as he typed up a suitable coolkid greeting. "Sup." Perfect.

"Dave," Rose replied, her signature purple text flying across the screen, "John informed me that you abruptly ended your conversation with him and seemed upset about it. Would you like to talk about it?"

Rose always wanted to pick his brains- she wanted to become a psychiatrist one day. Dave found her much more tolerable than Dirk, mostly because she was his own age and didn't try to talk condescendingly to him while pretending to be his pal.

"Not really. Dirk's just getting on my nerves and I wish he'd just move out already like he's always talking about. That's all there is. Really." Somehow, Dave doubted this would be the end of the conversation.

"Really? I was under the impression that Dirk mostly ignored you," Rose replied swiftly. Dave groaned in chagrin. Here it comes, he thought, an tidal wave of psychoanalytical bullshit. "You seem to harbor a great amount of resentment for your brother these day. A few years ago, he was all you would talk about, but now you appear to associate him with negative emotions. I wonder why that is. Perhaps you feel jealous? After all, Dirk is the older sibling and he has a great deal of responsibility. He's quite successful- he's about to graduate from college, he has a steady job- I think you _are_ jealous."

"No! Just back off, okay? I'm not jealous that he knows what he wants to do with his life while I'm still clueless, I'm not jealous that everything that's ever been mine was Dirk's first, I'm not _jealous_ of him at _all_!"

He really hadn't meant to snap at her like that, but he was so _tired_ of everyone always talking about his brother.

"I see," she responded. Dave could almost hear the dryness in her voice. "You _resent_ him."

"No!" Dave slammed his fist into the mattress and was rewarded for his effort when one of the springs connected sharply with his knuckles and punched through the sheets and stabbed him in the hand. "Shit, shit _shit_ ," he screeched aloud, leaping up from the bed and dropping the phone, which clattered to the floor. Dave didn't even stop to see if the damn thing was broken, he just ran screaming to the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

He tried to wash the puncture wound out, but it kept bleeding and bleeding and _bleeding_ and the water stung like _hell_ and he gave up with that. He tried to staunch the bleeding with a towel, but pretty soon the towel was covered in the stuff. "Shit!" He cursed.

The bleeding really wasn't stopping, and he really didn't have any other choice. "Mom!" No answer yet. "Mom! Mom, I really need your help right now!"

 _"David Lorraine Strider!_ What in god's name is so- _oh my god what is going on here?!_


	3. Lots And Lots Of Bandages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave is rushed to the hospital, and later has to endure bad jokes.

As his mother stared in shock at the bloodied towels and the candy-red stains in the bathmat, Dave tried his very best to explain the circumstances leading up to the terrible mutilation of his hand, but all he managed to say was "Mattress, hospital," before he fainted dramatically like a damsel in distress wrapped in bloody towels like a bloody-towel mummy.

When he awoke from his dire swoon, he found he was on the couch, and the sounds of laughter and conversation could be heard flowing from behind the kitchen door. "I wondered why he stopped talking so suddenly. I assumed he was simply infuriated about our topic of conversation."

Rose. Rose was in the kitchen. Rose was never in the kitchen, Rose was never in the house. Dave's mother never let Rose come over. She hated Rose's mother, the woman Dave's father had had an affair with, and she wanted no reminders that her husband had ever stepped out on her. Especially not snarky, purple-eyed reminders who quietly judged and psychoanalyzed your every move and tended to go on long-winded explanations using many words you had never heard of.

Dave wondered if he was dreaming, and none of this was actually real. He lifted a bizarrely heavy hand to his face to inspect the damage and found said appendage encased in heavy bandages. 

He let his bandaged arm fall back to the couch with a dull, cushioned thump. All of his limbs felt like leaden spaghetti- weak and limp and useless and far too heavy- not just the arm attached to his hideously mutilated hand. He attempted to sit up and was immediately greeted by a wave of dull nausea and dizziness. His head ached and his eyes wouldn't focus properly, and in a distant part of his brain, it registered to him that he was, quite likely, heavily medicated.

He groaned softly, trying once again to sit up, and again he was most unsuccessful. He swore quietly and attempted to move his legs into a position where he could stand on them, but they seemed to be made of Jello. As he struggled to stand, more voices poured from behind the kitchen door. John's laughter as Dirk cracked some joke, and Dave felt like his chest had been suddenly filled with freezing water.

The lethargic sleepiness he'd been fighting vanished in a jarring rush, though the weakness and inability to move remained.

John. John laughing at Dirk's stupid jokes, which were never actually funny, not even in an ironic way (though Dave was, admittedly, biased in this regard. He tended to believe his jokes were superior to everyone else's). John almost never laughed Dave's jokes, but Dirk's jokes were the funniest things ever spoken of? No. No, no, no, no, no! Jealousy surged like fire through his veins, and if he'd been able to, he probably would have run into the kitchen and slugged his brother right then and there. But he couldn't, so instead he resigned himself to lying on the couch and fuming, imagining being able to punch his brother in the jaw. It wasn't as satisfying as he imagined actually hitting his brother would be, but it was all he could do.

Dave made an ugly face as Jake's voice floated out from behind the door, carrying some stupid joke that Dave immediately regretted hearing, but John and Dirk seemed to find it hilarious. Dirk replied with another joke, which was, in Dave's mind, almost certainly just as stupid as the one Jake had just told. He was infuriated when John laughed again, louder an more heartfelt than he ever had at any joke Dave had ever made. He wanted to jump to his feet and beat the ever-loving shit out of his brother, but all he could do was smack the back of the couch weakly with his uninjured hand and stew in his jealousy and misery.

John. John was betraying him to Dirk. He'd been the only thing that had ever been Dave's and Dave's alone, and he had gone over to the dark side the moment Dirk had shown his stupid, perfect face. Dave wanted to shove his stupid pointy anime shades into Dirk's eyes. He was tired of living in Dirk's shadow, tired of being the baby brother, tired of no one even noticing him, tired of never, ever having anything to himself.

He was sick of being in Dirk's shadow, and he would do anything to step out of it. Dave was done being the screw-up child, and he was done having a brother.


	4. Walk It Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave and John talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha ha, wow. I am not sorry.

Dave took a deep, shaky breath. Why was his brother always chosen over him? By his parents, by his teachers, by his friends, by John- no. No, he wasn't going to go there. That wasn't happening. Rose was right, he thought. He was jealous, irrationally jealous. 

His parents were just watching their oldest kid grow up and prepare to leave home. His teachers- well, Dave couldn't really blame them, could he? He'd never been an easy kid to deal with, always in trouble. John- John was, like so many other people, just a little caught up in Dirk's surprising maturity. He couldn't keep letting these things get to him. They were irrational, unhealthy habit of comparison and blame and resentment, he- he was interrupted as John and Jake and Dirk came through the door.

“Oh, hey little bro. You're awake!” Dirk smiled, flashing a thumbs-up at Dave. “How're you feeling?”

Dave swallowed his anger, trying to be rational and not do a pirouette off the handle like a handle ballerina, and replied, nodding. “A little woozy, a little dizzy, but alright.” He gave his coolest coolkid shrug, then turned to John. “Hey, John. Here to weep at my deathbed?”

John turned to look at Dave, seemingly startled, or maybe distracted. “What? Oh, yeah, hey. “ Dave frowned, wondering what had him so distracted. Maybe Dir- no. He needed to break that cycle of blaming and resenting his brother, it wasn't doing anything but driving him crazy.

“I'm practically dying over here, John. On my fuckin deathbed and all. A thousand scruffy little orphans are mourning in the streets for my passing, Oliver Twist's out there crying his fucking heart out.”

John rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. “You don't have to be so dramatic, Dave.”

Dave returned his smile with an easy grin. “I do, actually. If I don't meet my drama quotient each day, I'll crumble into highly combustible Dave-sand.” Again, John rolled his eyes, but his smile remained as he shook his head. “No, really, I'll turn to sand and the sand will explode and millions of children will cry all at once.”

Dirk chuckled as he pulled Jake along by the arm. “We'll leave you kids alone for a moment. Remember, keep it PG. The rest of us have to sit on that couch too. I don't need to be reminded every time I sit on that couch that my brother once made out with his boyfriend there.”

He waved as he and Jake headed for the front door. “See ya later, kids.”

Once he was gone, John's expression lost some of its vibrancy. The dark-haired boy sat down on the arm of the couch. “Dave, I think we need to talk. I know this isn't the best time, but... It's been happening for a while. You've been so snappy lately, and I don't know what's going on and you won't tell me.” Dave groaned, dreading the words that would inevitably follow, but John plowed on.

“I see a lot of similarities between you and your brother, you know. You both push yourselves too hard and punish yourselves too much, and every time you fail at something, you give yourself and excuse to hate yourself a little more, but where you both used to keep it bottled up inside until it physically hurt you,” he paused for a second, taking a deep breath. Dave could hear the tears in his voice as John fought them back. “It's just- Dave, you used to keep everything bottled up inside you, which wasn't any better, but now you've started taking it out on me. I'm not sure you even realize you're doing it, but it hurts me and I don't deserve that.”

“I- I'm sorry. I-” But before he could finish, John continued.

Sniffling a little, voice wavering, he continued. “Dave, I really like you, and you're really great, but you need some space to work out whatever you're going through, and I need the space to- to- to, I don't know, to recover, I guess. For the past three months you've been snapping at me and basically telling me to shut up every time I try to talk to you, and that's just not going to work. I can't sacrifice my own feelings to support you right now, and I wish I didn't have to do this, but I think I do.”

“Are- are you breaking up with me?” Dave was stunned. He hadn't realized he was being so snippy with John, and he swallowed hard against the tears welling up in his eyes and the tightness in his chest.

“I- yeah, I am. It's... It's not forever, you know. Just- just call me or something, once you've gotten past whatever it is you've got going on.”

Dave nodded somberly. “I- yeah, I'll do that. I'm sorry I hurt you.” John stood up, looking out the window.

“I should go,” he said, and walked away. “But I'm serious about that call, Dave,” he turned to look back at him. “Tell me the second you get through with whatever it is, and I’ll come running right back to you.”

And then he was out the door and climbing on his bicycle, and he was gone.

Dave's chest felt hollow, as if someone had reached inside of him and scooped out his heart and lungs. He wanted to cry, wanted to climb onto the roof and howl like a kicked dog, but the tears just wouldn't come. He struggled to sit up for a moment, and finally pulled himself up.

He managed to pull himself to his feet and stumble his way to the bathroom, where he kicked the door shut and stared at his reflection in the mirror for what felt like hours, trying to figure out what was wrong with him, why he'd taken his anger and resentment out on the one person he had who wasn't connected to any of his problems- the one person he relied on the most. 

As he stared into his own eyes reflected back at him, it almost didn't feel real, but at the same time it was all too believable. He was a fuckup, and once again, he'd fucked everything up. Sometimes it felt like he fucked everything up, like that was the only thing he could to.

He tore his gaze away from the mirror a second before he crumpled against the toilet and threw up. His stomach emptied and he continued to heave, choking on the bitter acid that burned at his throat and left an awful taste behind, but not nearly as awful as knowing he'd pushed his boyfriend away until he was gone.

Finally, the heaving subsided and he was left leaning against the shower door, wet, ugly sobs making their way up his throat as salty tears coated his cheeks and made his face feel sticky. He hated crying, hated the stiffness in his face and the swelling in his eyes and the way it made people pity him.

His mouth tasted of ashes and his hand and stomach and face ached, but the worst of it was the hollow agony in his heart.

After a moment, he heard footsteps in the hallway. “You okay in there?” Dirk's voice, and for once Dave just couldn't feel angry. He hurt too much to be angry. He hiccuped, eyes swollen and red, tears still coming thickly.

“I don't feel so great,” he choked out, voice wavering and breaking and his words disjointed by broken keens.

“I know, man. I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

okay let me preface this by being honest: i'm orphaning this work. like, i meant to go a long way with it, but that's not happening. now, let me say something else: i'm sorry. there are a lot of reasons why i'm abandoning this fic, and they include (but are not limited to):

\- the outdated quality of the writing. seriously. i have gotten so much better since i wrote this, and if i continued now, the quality jump would be really jarring and i don't think it would flow right

\- the characterization. let's face it, it blows. the characters don't act anything like they're supposed to. tbh, when i wrote this is didn't have a good grasp of who dave & dirk were as characters, and because of that they're almost unrecognizable. 

\- personal growth. i've changed a lot since i wrote this (or at least i hope i have) and tbh it was a bad time for me when i started writing Paranoid Crows. not the worst i've ever had it, sure, but not good either. i used this story in part to impress someone i was kind of stupidly infatuated with, and part as a vent for my own feelings, pushed my emotional turmoil onto dave, and it didn't work out.

-and finally, personal preference. i really can't stand how whiny this story is, and i don't have much patience for my own self-indulgent whining anymore, and stories about how miserable a character is and how everyone is ganging up on them and everything is terrible but none of it could possibly be their fault kind of annoy me now.

i feel bad about the idea of just leaving it blank and open here, just up and leaving without even giving a little peek at what was going to happen in the story, so i feel like i'm going to give ya'll a little overview here. keep in mind that i was like, 15 when i wrote this and didn't think about what all i wanted to happen, so there are a lot of plot holes, but i'm gonna do my best to tie up the loose ends:

\- dave is super jealous of dirk, which is clear in the chapters i published. but it gets more and more extreme, which makes dave angry, and dirk is oblivious to dave's jealousy, which makes dave even angrier, and dave gets it in his head that dirk is mocking him, which of course he's not and never was and never would, but dave is angry and bitter and wants to take his hurt out on someone. it reaches a head when dirk gets worried about how sickly and withdrawn dave is, how obsessive his baby brother's become, and follows him on a walk one day intending to try to talk to him about what's going on, what's wrong, and all that. dave explodes, starts shouting at dirk that it's his fault, that if he weren't so insistent on making dave live in his shadow all the time and outshine him at everything, then devolves into incoherent screaming. dirk tries to explain that he never knew dave felt that way, and if he'd just told him, dirk would've helped him out. dave, of course, seethes at this, accuses dirk of mocking him, declared that it's too late, and then hits dirk

-dirk goes down hard, dave comes after him. by this point, dirk realizes that his brother's not himself and that he might hurt himself of dirk, and dirk tries to calm him down, but then dave flies into a rage and pulls a knife on dirk. then he stabs him, repeatedly and fatally. obviously, dirk dies. once he comes to, heaving for breath and standing over top his brother's mutilated body, covered in dirk's blood, dave promptly and predictably freaks the fuck out. duh. when he realizes what he's done, he panics, freaks the fuck out once again. somehow, he makes it back home and showers and then hides his bloody clothes + the knife. going into shock, he falls asleep.

-the next morning, he remembers what he did, freaks the fuck out again, and tries to formulate a plan, because obviously he doesn't want to go to jail- don't you know what happens to people who murder their brothers in jail? scary huge bald dudes with face tattoos stab them. dave doesn't want to get stabbed in jail by a scary huge bald dude with a face tattoo, so he comes up with a plan to hide the evidence. he goes about his day like everything's normal, says good morning to his parents, eats breakfast, the whole shebang. then he packs up the bloody clothes and the knife in a bag and tells his parents he's going. 'where?' they ask. 'out,' he says, and leaves before they can ask any more questions. he finds a nice secluded place on the edge of the river that runs through town, and he wraps the knife in the bloody pants and wraps that+a rock in the shirt, ties it, and throws it in the river.

-pretty soon everybody notices that dirk is gone. they report him missing, everyone's like, 'dave, you saw him last, do you know where he went?' and dave's like 'no way, he followed me, asked if anything was wrong, i told him i was just stressed about school, he nodded and said that if i needed any help i could ask him, and the he walked off.' out of sympathy for what dave's supposedly going through, john gets back together with him, and for a while things are okay. but soon the guilt sets in, and it eats away at him. the horror of what he'd done begins to get to him, and that plus the guilt makes him really paranoid. he starts pushing people away, suspects everyone of knowing and planning to turn him in, and eventually it gets so extreme that he tries to kill himself to avoid having to face what he's done.

\- spoiler: it doesn't work. everyone's real understanding, like, oh, you're grieving so deeply for your brother, we're so sorry. but he starts feeling guiltier and guiltier, and becomes more paranoid. in one of his fits of rage and paranoia, he lashes out at john, hurts him pretty badly, and john cuts ties with dave bc, nope, fuck that, he's out. if you're gonna hit him, he's out.

-dirk's body is found, the police rule it a very obvious homicide. dave starts feeling like the walls are closing in, panics, almost tries to kill himself again, but instead he turns himself in.

-he's arrested and goes to jail because when you kill someone, that's what happens. you go to jail. 

-dave is not stabbed in jail by a scary huge bald man with a face tattoo, but instead spends the rest of his life in prison, where no one will speak to him bc everyone thinks he's like, a serial killer or something. 'dude no you cant talk to him it doesn't matter if he's just a kid that dude killed his own brother for like, no reason. guy's scary as shit stay away from him'

-that's it that's how it ends. dave goes to jail.


End file.
